You stress me out. Not in a particularly bad way, but nonetheless, you do. Which is weird when it really comes down to it. I’ve always thought of myself as a pretty fearless person. Rollercoasters have always been my thing, but this loop-the-loop emotional thrill ride that I’m on has me internally screaming, “STOP!”, and reaching for the nearest barf bag.
I’m not really sure what this is intended to be. Not a mindless list of relatable things followed by Friends gifs, or even amazingly insightful BS that will illicit thousands of shares. Quite frankly, this is turning into a word-vomit-like stream of consciousness that is sure to make you click the “Done” button right now.
That’s a pretty valid response, I’d say. I’m not sure what this is. I'm just rambling on, repeating the same sentiment over and over.
You stress me the hell out.
“Dear lord, get a diary, you wannabe Disney princess.” I say to myself as I continue typing. Forgive me, Odyssey readers, for this is a glorified journal entry. But I’m not exactly twisting your arm to read it, either. Can you imagine? I come to your window in the dead of night, “READ THIS NOW, OR ELSE! Also, be a pall and share it on Facebook, would you?”
But never mind that.
I’m stressing over things as insignificant as, “I texted him a super sweet message 4 hours ago, and he still hasn't mentioned it.”
And then a tsunami of self annoyance washes over this superficial mindset I am buying into. My mind screams “PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER!” in Edna’s voice from The Incredibles, as I mentally slap myself across the face a few times.
(Okay there's gifs. I lied. But they're for reference purposes, chill.)
Then I realize you still haven't responded and I’m back into the same dramatic BS.
I get it. I do. I should go for a hike, and become a technologically illiterate hippie, or throw my phone in the ocean. Or maybe, just calm down in general. But I’ve never been good at that. Take away the ease of technology and being constantly connected to everything at once, and I’d still be worrying about something.
I’m definitely a bare-your-soul type of person. Words are all I have really, and I always expect a lot more in return than I get for them. It’s just like I’m back in grade school, I’m giving you my homemade chocolate chip and almond cookies at lunch and getting store-bought chips ahoy in return. On the surface, I feel like I got cheated, but I remember you just like cookies with nuts, and I prefer them without.
Everything is about personal preference.
I’d prefer to send you a meaningful text telling you all about what you mean to me, but you’d really just rather take your nut-filled cookies and be on your merry way.
But then the wheels start turning. What if he thinks I’m crazy? What if I seem clingy or over-attached. Well, I’m here to say, I’m not over-attached, if that’s what you’re thinking. I just have a classic case of “Overthinker.”
“Overthinker” is a cute mask to slap on. It downplays the actual hell of being just a little bit neurotic. It makes it acceptable, like “I’m a super quirky girl that’s just a bit low-key crazy!!!” But that's just a character. One that can’t come close to touching real anxiety. Or even a real person. Because in actuality, I am totally crazy by all standards.
Absolutely mental, actually. I’m such an overly-emotional heap of feelings, and there you are, stone-cold as a Liam Neeson character. Okay, maybe you’re not that bad. But it does suck to spill out my feelings and receive almost nothing in return. I joke a lot about being that overly attached girlfriend from the meme, but sometimes I’m scared that I’m not too far off.
All insecurities, after all, no matter how crazy, are based in some truth. Right?
Being an actual overthinker means there’s stuff that suspends itself in your chest and climbs up your lungs to suffocate you when you’re trying to sleep. Your brain works in overtime and reminds you of all the stupid and embarrassing things you've literally ever said. On replay. It’s like a radio you can’t shut off. And let’s be honest, nobody really likes the radio. It ruins songs you love. (I'm so sick of hearing "Hello, it's me..." come on the radio, I'm one piano chord away from writing a strongly worded email to my local radio station.) And that’s kind of what an overthinker's brain does too.
I’ll think about maybe texting you again, and then my mind will flashback to the guy that would never leave me alone, and I’ll put my phone on silent and flip it face down.
I’ll think about maybe sending you a sweet message, just because I can, and then I have a That So Raven moment where I see into the near future.
That's me, left overthinking your silence, once again. That’s obsessive, I know.
I don’t know why it’s seen as obsessing, though. When someone is so wonderful that you’re just bursting to tell them. But when you find the perfect words they don’t seem to make an impact. Or maybe it’s just too many words. None of this really makes sense.
But neither does the way I feel, really.
I’m so quick to use my words. But now I’m biting my tongue just a bit.
So I’ll stop. I’ll hold back, or at least try. Because sometimes I get too caught up in your lack of words that I miss what some of your actions are saying. So, even though it drives me crazy, this is me, shutting up. Shutting up, because I want to be around you and I don't want to end up being that one crazy girl that drove you away.